Hell Hath No Fury
Albert wasn’t sure what to expect, but the big, lavish house seemed to fit the bill. In front of the double garage, a nearly new Mercedes convertible sat waiting to be used. The detached family home had a wrought iron fence running from left and right to a pedestrian gate in the middle. The area between it and the house was solidly block paved, but there were large, ornate tubs with clipped trees along the front edge and at the leading edge of the house. Whoever spaced them, did so using a tape measure.
Going through the gate of Mrs Clement’s property, Albert wondered how she had taken the news of her husband’s death? He was here because someone had pointed the finger at Kate Harris. Eating his breakfast, his mind had flashed a case many years ago when, as a detective sergeant, he had wasted countless manhours pursuing a suspect and trying to make a conviction stick because of an anonymous tip off. They never did get to the bottom of who provided the tip, but it proved to be completely erroneous and he caught hell from the chief constable, a perfectionist who’d risen fast through the ranks and expected everyone to be able to match his record. Albert wracked his brain for a name, finally coming up with Quinn.
Albert nodded to himself as he gave the face in his memory a name: Harry Quinn, although Albert remembered most of the cops had a different name for the chief which they used when he was not around to hear it. Remembering him brought another memory to the surface, one where his son Randall had spoken about another fellow called Quinn. Apparently, Harry’s grandson was making a name for himself in the Kent Police.
Approaching the door to what he believed was Mrs Clement’s house, and planning to knock smartly on the door, Albert jumped when the door opened outwards. A trim, attractive woman in stretchy leggings and a figure-hugging top was equally startled to find a man on her doorstep.
They both recoiled, the woman almost slamming the door in fright and well might have had the person outside not be a kindly-looking old man with a dog.
‘Mrs Clement?’ Albert asked when his breath came back under control.
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Not anymore. I recently remarried. What can I do for you?’ Her instinct was to brush the man off; she was meeting friends at the gym and didn’t want to be late. If he had an armful of leaflets, he’d have gotten a rude response and cold shoulder. Since he didn’t, and didn’t appear to be trying to sell anything, he got a few seconds of her time.
‘My name is Albert Smith,’ he introduced himself. ‘And this is Rex.’
Rex sniffed the air, leaning forward to get a good noseful of the air coming from her house as the female human stood in the open doorway. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular; truth was he didn’t know where they were or who the female human was. There were no familiar smells he decided. The scent of the two men he wanted to find was not present so they had either never been here, or their visit was so long ago that their scent had long since faded.
‘I’m investigating the circumstances of your husband, Joel’s, death,’ Albert explained.
‘Ex-husband,’ she reminded him. Albert chose to say husband on purpose, wondering how she might react. He was half expecting her to spit the words ‘Ex-husband,’ but she didn’t. Her voice was calm and rational. ‘You say investigating, yet, if you’ll not think me rude, you look a little old to be a policeman.’
Albert chuckled. ‘I am a little old, you are quite correct. I’m a little old to be most things, but I used to be a police officer. I apologise for dropping in unannounced like this, you see the police have Kate Harris in custody, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you who that is.’ He was prompting her to show her emotions. When he mentioned her ex-husband’s death, she barely even blinked. Kate stole her man, wrecking the home and taking away the father to her children. She had moved on emotionally; time allows a person to do that, and she hadn’t hung around in getting remarried. Surely though, the mention of Kate Harris would trigger a reaction.
The former Mrs Clement stared at him for a moment. ‘Yes, I know who she is. I wasn’t aware they had arrested her though. When did that happen?’
‘Yesterday afternoon,’ Albert supplied. ‘If you’ll pardon the observation, you appear very unmoved regarding your husband’s murder, and even more so about the incarceration of the woman he left you for.’
Her eyes flared. ‘You think he left me?’ she faked a laugh. ‘I kicked him out, the tubby, sweaty ball of lard. Honestly, I only married him because he got me pregnant at sixteen. I needed my head tested to have stayed with him as long as I did. All he ever did was eat.’ She put her hands on her hips and pushed her shoulders back to accentuate her figure. ‘Does it look like I eat too much?’ Albert was struck dumb, unsure what answer he ought to give, but Mrs Clement wasn’t
